Changes of the Heart
by Gleek2013
Summary: It's amazing how thing's can change so fast. Sometime's for the better, sometime's for the worst. A Brittany story, with hints of Faberry and others.
1. Chapter 1

"Brittany, what are you saying."

"I'm saying…I'm saying I'm going to LA." The blonde dancer replied quietly.

Santana Lopez sat frozen on her bed, staring at her girlfriend. Those were not the words she'd expected to hear when Brittany had said she had something to tell her.

"I just, I need to figure out what I want. Figure out how to live on my own, ya know?" Brittany continued. "I mean, you've always been there, but this past year…I've changed. I don't know exactly what I want in life anymore."

"No, you don't know if you want me anymore." Santana finally spoke, voice tinged with bitterness.

"Santana, you know it's not like that." Brittany argued. "I just- UCLA offered me a scholarship. It's a good one. You know how much that means to me, especially after repeating this last year."

Santana swallowed the lump in her throat. "You got other offers. Offers that aren't across the country."

"I did." Brittany agreed. "But you know UCLA is my dream. I've wanted to go there…forever. I can't say no San."

"So what, is this…are you breaking up with me?" Santana demands, tears starting to leak from her eyes. She wipes them away furiously. This is definitely not the conversation she'd expected to have with Brittany tonight.

Two weeks before, Brittany had graduated. Santana had driven home in time to see it, then had to drive back for a football game. But she'd been there, and she'd saw Brittany. She'd been planning on driving home this weekend, and spending the 3 days she had free in Lima, visiting her parents and her girlfriend.

When Brittany had called her an hour before and told her she was in the parking lot, she hadn't believed it. But she had been. They'd went out to dinner, making small conversation before coming back to Santana's dorm. She didn't have a roommate, so it was just them two. That's when Brittany had announced they needed to talk.

Santana should have known something was off. Brittany had been fidgety all afternoon, and seemed nervous. She just hadn't expected to hear she was moving across the country.

She refocused as she saw Brittany look away, biting her lip.

"You are." Santana whispered. "Wow."

"You and I both know most long distance relationships don't work." Brittany said softly, as if that justified it. "I mean, you live 4 hours away, and I've barely saw you in the past year. Maybe 8 times?"

Santana blinked. "What? No. I'm home at least once a month."

"Yeah, maybe." Brittany shrugged. "But your usually studying, or sleeping, or you don't shut up about school. It's never just you there."

"Don't do this." Santana snapped. "Don't justify you breaking up with me by saying I'm not trying. I have been. So I can't come home every weekend? I have football games, and practice. You knew it would be like that when I got the scholarship. The scholarship that you found for me." She reminded.

Brittany nodded. "I did. Because you wanted out of Lima, and I wanted that too. You deserve it. I deserve it too though."

"You do! I didn't say that. But just because your going to school in another state doesn't mean we can't make it work." Santana realized she was practically begging, but damn. She couldn't lose Brittany.

"Santana, be serious." Brittany snapped. "I'll be living across the country. How often will you be flying out there a year? I'd guess a lot less than 8 times."

"You don't know that." Santana denied.

"I do." Brittany argued tiredly. "Because neither of us can afford to."

"So your not even going to try?" Santana said bitterly, anger flaring. "Your just dumping me, moving to LA, and that's that. Your not even going to attempt to stay together."

"I think it'll be better this way." Brittany mumbled quietly. "A clean break…"

"For you, you mean. You're the one that wants this, not me." Santana clenched her fists, standing and rising from the bed. She walked across the room, throwing open the door to her tiny closet. Grabbing a bag off the top shelf, she jerks a small box from it, turning and going back to Brittany. The blondes sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes wide when she sees what Santana's holding out.

"That right there Brittany-that's why I couldn't come home every weekend." Santana jabbed a finger toward the box. "I got a job as a waitress at this place a few blocks away and literally just paid for it yesterday."

"Santana-" Brittany murmured, opening the box with shaky hands. Inside was a silver ring, shining brightly. The design was two hearts intertwined, outlined in tiny jewels. Diamonds. The way the ring was laying, she could see an inscription was etched on the inside. Lifting it carefully, she read the tiny letters. S+B forever, followed by the date they'd started dating officially.

"It was supposed to be a surprise. For your graduation. Then I decided to wait for our one year. Guess it's good that's still a month away. Now I won't make a fool of myself by making dinner reservations since you'll be in California." Santana laughed humorlessly when Brittany looked up at her.

Brittany closed the box, swallowing all her emotions. "Santana-"

"Don't." The Latina interrupts. "I gave it to you so you'd know. I love you Brittany. I always have, always will. That ring, wasn't an engagement ring. It was a promise ring. A promise that I will always love you, and will always be here. You're the one that's decided we won't make it. I didn't give you the ring to change your mind, because it's obviously made up. I just wanted you to know."

Brittany tries to hand it back, and Santana shakes her head. "No. Keep it. It's yours." She didn't add that she'd vetoed getting a class ring for school, instead ordering a ring just like Brittany's for herself. It was supposed to be back and ready for her to pick up the following week.

"I'm sorry." Brittany says, eyes pooling with tears. She jumps forward, pulling her surprised, recent ex-girlfriend, into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry."

Before Santana can react, Brittany's pulled away and already running out of the dorm. Santana stands frozen in her spot, staring at the empty doorway. Tears start falling down her face, and she starts shaking. When she can't stand it anymore, she drops to the floor on her knees, sobs racking her body.

Yeah, Brittany had basically broken up with her before she'd given her the ring. And she didn't expect it to change her mind, not exactly. She'd thought maybe, maybe, it would cause the blonde to reconsider. Or perhaps cause her to at least make an effort to try the long distance thing for a few weeks before ending things completely. She certainly hadn't expected her to run from her room without anything other than an apology.

**3 weeks later:**

"Come on Lopez! You call that cheering! Your worse than my 80 year old grandma!"

Santana grits her teeth hearing the captain calling her out. It's the fifth time in twenty minutes. It's been like this everyday since Brittany left. She can't focus. She can't sleep. Which means during classes she's barely able to understand anything, and her grades are starting to show. The last test she had was definitely not passing. The one before that either. Her cheerleading performance isn't any better. Her voice isn't peppy enough, her moves are to robotic. She can't even do a back flip now without almost falling.

Coach Hart, or Shay as she told them to call her, had accepted the answer that she was going through some personal stuff. The first week. The second week she told her to get her shit together. Now the third week, she was simply staring at her. It reminded her of Sue's everyday look, except worse. If she got kicked of the cheerleading squad, she was getting kicked out of school. There was no way she could afford tuition. Telling her parents wasn't an option either.

"Take five!" Shay yelled, blowing a whistle. Everyone was dropped from the stunts, all going to get water. Santana sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she headed for the bleachers. "Lopez, hang back a minute."

Stopping, she waited for her coach to continue. The older woman walked over, leading her to a section of the bleachers were no one else was. "What's going on with you?"

"I'm just…personal stuff. It won't be a problem anymore."

"Well it is." Shay stated flatly. "It has been. You've said that before. I can't have a cheerleader that's not cheering. You look like a zombie. Added to the fact that I had professor Collins call me. I have no choice but to put you on probation until further notice."

Santana looked down. Of course he would call. "I know, I'm sorry, but-"

"But nothing." Shay cut her off. "You have a week Lopez. One week to make up whatever work you've missed, and one week to prove you're still the girl that walked into this campus a year ago. Because I gotta tell you, this isn't her. Figure your shit out, and figure it out quick. You're a good cheerleader, when you're here. I'd hate to lose you for good."


	2. Chapter 2

**You like so far?**

"Santana, what are you doing here?"

Here is Connecticut. More precisely, Yale University Campus Apartment building. If anyone will know what she's going through, it would be her best friend. Sure, they didn't always get along in high school, but the blonde standing in front of her had always been her best friend. Aside from Brittany that is.

"I quit school." Santana spits out, watching Quinn's eyes go from worried to wide in shock.

"You better come in." she states, stepping back. "My roommates in the living room. We can talk in the kitchen."

As she's leading the way there, Quinn glances over her shoulder. Her friend looks like death warmed over. She knew about the breakup, only because Rachel told her. Finn had told Kurt, who had told Rachel, who had told her. She hadn't called Santana, mainly because she'd been so busy, and she knew Santana wouldn't want a bunch of being asking the same questions.

"So, start talking." she instructs, sliding a cup of coffee across the table there sitting at.

Santana swallows, taking a large gulp before starting. Twenty minutes later, she's done and staring at her friend seriously.

"…So, you in?"

Quinn scrunches her nose in amazement. "Am I in?"

Santana nods. She'd thought about this for days, since the coach got onto her. When the week was up, she was still doing horrible. So instead of waiting for them to kick her off, she quit. She couldn't do it. Pretty much the only reason she'd went was to get a education so she could support Brittany. Since that was out, she wasn't going to waste her time. She was going with her plan B. "Yeah, New York. Me, you, Rachel, Kurt, oh and Blaine I guess."

"I don't think-"

"You and Rachel are still dating right? It's perfect for you two."

"But I have school."

Santana raises an eye. "Transfer to NYU. I know that was your top choice. You just didn't go there because Rachel was with Finn at the time. But you two have been together, what, like 5 months?"

"Six." Quinn corrects automatically, shifting in her seat. Santana's idea seems nice. Great even. She'd love to live closer to Rachel. Rachel's even suggested the same thing, she's just been to scared. "But I don't know…"

"Oh come on Q. We both know you want to be there. You don't want to be in this stupid place with that-" she jabs a finger toward the adjoining room. "-as a roommate. Not when you could have Rachel."

The blonde blushes slightly, fingers fiddling with her coffee cup. "My parents-"

"Do something that's going to make you happy." Santana interjects. "Look, if your happy here, really happy, I'll leave. I'll go on my own, and never mention it again. I just thought I'd offer."

Quinn inhales deeply. "Let's leave tomorrow."

Santana raises an eye, hearing the uncertainty in her tone. The blonde nods again. "I want to. Let's go. Your right. I'm not happy. I hate it here. This school sucks. Let's go to New York."

"Really?" Santana questions, a smile forming.

Quinn nods. "Really, let's move to New York. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Santana repeats to herself, feeling the best she has since Brittany ran out of her dorm. It's been a month.

After quitting school, she'd went home. Dropping all her stuff in her old room, she'd told her parents the truth. Her dad had yelled, demanding she go back. Her mom had cried. In the end, she'd walked out the front door. They were disappointed, and were once again angry when she told them her plans to go to New York. When her dad had told her she was being stupid, she'd left. She hadn't told them the day she quit was the day it would have been her and Brittany's one year. They didn't need to know that.

Then she'd told them her plan for New York. She'd packed everything she'd need, and headed that. She was passing the sign for the exit when she thought of Quinn. And here she was.

"Oh my god, I have to call Rachel." Quinn exclaimed, jumping up from the table and running to grab her cell phone.

Santana sat at the kitchen, listening to Quinn squeal into the phone as she told Berry the news. While she was happy for the two, she couldn't help but feel a knot form in her stomach. She wondered if Brittany was in LA yet. She'd heard from her mom she was driving, which would take almost a week. She'd left the day before Santana had came home, again something she'd heard her mom talking about.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she figures she might as well get used to the couple. She'll be seeing a lot of them in New York.

**6 weeks later:**

"Lopez, you coming?"

She looks up from grabbing her jacket and bag from the shelf its on. It's 2 am she's getting off work, a bar a few blocks from the apartment her and Quinn found, and gives a small smile. "I don't think so, not this time."

It's the same answer she's given since starting. The group she works with are pretty nice, they just party way to much. They usually leave the bar and go to a club, or two, or three, across town. She's heard about those trips. Each story involves tons of alcohol. Sometimes the mention of stronger stuff. Illegal stuff.

"Oh come on Lopez. It'll be fun. It's gonna be a short party tonight. We all work tomorrow."

"Yeah, besides, your knew. It's time to initiate you into our group properly."

She turns to shoot a glance toward the voice. Damien Carter. The guy is leaning against the wall. Truthfully, he's always given her a bad feeling. Luckily, they usually don't work together. Maybe once a week, when there's other people there. But him inviting her, is almost reason for her not to. But she hears Quinn's words from earlier in her head, telling her that she should get out and have a life besides work.

Since moving to the city, all she does is work nights from 9-4 and sleep al day. Her blonde roommate had successfully transferred to NYU, and was in there journalism program. Between school, Rachel and working at the library a few times a week, they hardly saw each other. Weekends were reserved for the two of them, plus Rachel, Kurt and Blaine, all spending time doing something. Usually at Rachel and Kurt's just hanging out. Quinn had decided not to move in with Rachel right away, instead getting used to living in the same mile radius. Neither wanted to rush anything.

She inhales deeply, looking down. When she does, her hand catches the ring on her hand. The ring just like Brittany's. She'd paid for it the day before quitting school, and had it on ever since. She couldn't take it off, even if she didn't have what t stood for. Looking up, she nodded. "Ok, I'll go."

"Yes!"

"Come on, let's go then!"

An hour later, she's regretting it. She's already had to many drinks. She keeps getting them handed to her, and after the first few, things are numb. But she realizes something. It's the first time she hasn't thought of Brittany in weeks. So she keeps drinking.

The same thing happens the next few months pass quickly. She follows the same routine, only it's work, partying, sleep. She still sees Quinn and Rachel on the weekends, but not as regularly. She's usually meeting up with someone from work, despite being off. She doesn't really enjoy the drinking and hangovers. But she does enjoy not thinking about her ex-girlfriend all the time. But she does, unless she's drinking. So she continues.

There at a new club that opened up across town, when Damien walks up to her, drink in hand. She's already had way to many, but again, she can't seem to care. Grabbing it, she gulps it down, Damien laughing as he did the same with his. "Damn Lopez."

"Shut up." Santana laughs. She's discovered over the past few weeks that he's not that bad of a guy. Sure, he's not a saint, but he's pretty funny. Decent to talk to, and not a bad drinking buddy. She told him all about Brittany and her parents one night, after having a few drinks. He sympathized, and bought her another round.

"Look, your not going to get the buzz your looking for by this stuff." He says quietly, raising the cup in his hand.

Santana finishes hers, raising an eye. "I'm not?"

He shakes his head, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a baggy. Holding it up, he nods. "This'll get you the feeling you want."

**Please read and review. Any ideas or comments are appreciated:P **


	3. Chapter 3

"Santana, where's your half of the rent this month?" Quinn cried, staring at the envelope on the table.

The latina's digging in the fridge, when she hears those words. Instantly, she freezes. Swiveling around, she faces the blonde, who's now looking at her. "I-umm-I-"

"Santana, it's due tomorrow. You can't be serious. Again?"

"I'll have it." Santana says quickly. She tries to forget she used the same excuse the month before. "It'll just be a couple days."

"What are you buying?" Quinn growls. "Because you work and make plenty more than me, and I manage to have the money on time."

Santana swallows thickly, backing out of the kitchen. "Tomorrow. I'll have it by tomorrow night. I'm sorry Quinn."

Two hours later, she's at Damien's apartment. Knocking on the door nervously she steps back. A second later he answers, a pair of basketball shorts thrown on haphazardly. His hairs standing up everywhere, eyes bloodshot. "Lopez, what's up?"

"I need my money back." Santana blurts.

He laughs after she says that, realizing she's serious.. "I don't do refunds. You should know that."

"I need my money back." Santana insists. "I have rent due. I can't-I can't do this anymore. Just take this back and give me my money."

Damien steps back, ushering her in. "Look, I don't do refunds. Ever. I'll give you the money to cover rent, but I'm not taking it back. You'll pay me back when you get paid again."

"No, I really can't do this anymore. It's- I'm not this person." Santana argues. Damien snorts, pulling the money from a jar and handing it over.. "You kind of are."

"No! I'm not." Santana yells. Her voice lowers and she grabs the money out of his hand, shoving it in her pocket. "I'm not a addict."

Damien laughs, shaking his hair. "News flash chica, you are. Otherwise, you would have dropped that bag your clutching like a lifeline on the table and left as soon as you got your money."

"No." Santana refuses. "I'm not."

"You are." Damien says with a smirk. "But it's ok. Cause' I have your back."

When she hands Quinn the money the next afternoon, she tries to ignore the churning in her stomach. She sits in her room later, staring at the baggy in her hand. She's not an addict. She's not. Sure, she uses, but she can totally stop. Whenever she wants.

Even as she's leaning toward the powder now lined up on her desk, she's saying the same thing. I can stop this. Anytime I want. I'm not an addict. I'm not.

But she knows the truth.

She is. She's an addict and is ruining her life. But she can't help it. She has nothing to fight for, nothing that's making it worth not doing what she's doing.

It's three months later that everything changes.

Quinn comes home from school, dropping all her books by the door. She's about to call out for Santana, wondering if she wasn't there again, when she spots a lone shoe on the floor.

Eyes furrowing she spots its mate down the hall toward her friends bedroom. Following it, she spots a pair of jeans laying in a pile, a t-shirt on top of the pile. Looking up, she sees the bathroom door is closed, the sounds of the shower telling her where Santana's at. She's honestly a little surprised she's there. It's been over a week since she's even saw her. The past few months she's noticed how different she's become. She's been hanging out with her work friends a lot more, barely spending time with any of her high school friends.

At first Quinn thought it was good. She was glad she was meeting people. She didn't like seeing her so depressed about Brittany. But the longer time that passed, the more she realized how different she was. She'd lost weight, she looked like a zombie, and she always came home drunk.

Scooping the clothes up, she drops them in the laundry hamper outside the bathroom door. Only then does she hear it. The shower doesn't cover it.

Crying.

Santana's crying.

Knocking lightly on the door, she doesn't hear a response. Knocking again she listens, but when all she hears is her friends sobs, she opens the door gently. "Santana, are you ok?"

"Quinn?" Santana whimpers.

"Santana, what's wro-" Quinn's eyes land on the towel laying on the counter, the crimson stain showing up against the white. "Is that blood? What's wrong?"

"Quinn." Santana repeats, another round of sobs escaping. "I didn't mean too."

Brushing aside the fact that her friends in the shower, Quinn crosses the room and pulls the curtain back. Santana's sitting in the bottom of the bathtub, knees pulled up to her chest. She's still wearing her bra and panties, but that's not where Quinn's looking.

She spots the busted lip first. It's hard not to, when it's still bleeding a little. Above it, she sees a bruise on her cheek bone, leading up to make her eye swelled up. Her neck is covered in bruises, and indentions, which she realizes are teeth marks. Letting her eyes travel down, she sees the same marks on her chest, stopping where her bra covers. She imagines there still there. She inhales sharply, mind reeling as she takes in the sight of her friend. "Santana what happened?"

"I-I didn't mean-" she can't finish her sentence because she starts gasping for breathe. Quinn bends down, shutting the water off while grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her friends shoulders. "Come on sweetie, let's get you out of here."

"I tried to stop, I swear. I said I couldn't do it anymore. I tried!"

"I know, it's ok. Calm down." Quinn repeats over and over again, leading her from the room and into her bedroom, she sits her on the bed. Running to her dresser she returns quickly, helping her into a pair of sweats and a big t-shirt. When she's tucked into bed, and she hears the breathing that means she's asleep, the blondes stands from the bed.

She's almost to the door, planning on calling Rachel and cancelling there date when she trips over a jacket. Reaching down to pick it up, she pauses and stares when a baggy falls out of the pocket. Reaching down and picking it up, her eyes widen in realization. Looking back toward the bed, she clutches the baggy in her hand, praying she's wrong.

Something tells her she's not. Because it all makes sense, as she thinks about it. All the money disappearing, the new friends, the passing out for hours, the mood swings, red eyes that she'd blamed on drinking. It's all summed up by the baggy in her hand.

Closing her eyes, she takes deep breathes. There's got to be some big explanation behind it, she tells herself. But at this moment, it doesn't matter. What matters is Santana's hurt, in more ways than one. Her current state, which looks like a punching bag, is the question. Something tells her the two go together. Either way, she's going to be there for her friend. She's going to need someone, and Quinn will be there.

No matter what.

**Yeah, it was shorter, but more happened...kind of. Thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions?**


	4. Chapter 4

"Ok, everyone look at me and smile." Santana instructs, looking through the lens of her camera. Seeing the bright smiles of the family, she clicks the button, a flash erupting before she lowers it. "Alright, now can I just get the kids?"

An hour later she's packing all the equipment up, marking the film canisters she needs to develop that night. Her minds completely on cleaning up, that she doesn't notice anyone enter the studio behind her.

She's been in photography a little over a year. It's amazing really, that she went from taking pictures because her sponsor recommended it as a de-stressing hobby, to taking pictures for Quinn for some school assignments. That led to taking pictures for Rachel's play, and that led to more people requesting her. She went from taking pictures in a spare bedroom of her apartment, to her own studio.

"Mommy!"

Turning sharply, she spots the small bundle of energy running toward her, legs wobbly. Squatting down, she scoops him up, hugging him tightly. Over his head, she spots one of the only people she trusts to watch her son. "Hey Blaine, thanks for keeping him entertained this morning."

The ex-warbler walks closer to her, a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. "No problem. We had fun, right little guy?"

"Yup."

Santana kisses his head, lowering him back to the ground. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he's running across the room, heading toward the toys she keeps there for him. Whenever she works late, he's there. There's also a couch pressed against the far wall. A mini fridge, and a small TV. She never knows how long it'll take her, and she doesn't like leaving him with her friends over night, despite how much they say they don't mind. So she's a little paranoid and overprotective. Who wouldn't be in her situation?

"He's getting better at that." Blaine jokes, watching him run.

Santana nods. "I'm kind of sad. He's growing up so fast."

"He's what…28 months?" Blaine asks.

Santana nods. "Yeah, next Thursday it'll be 28 exactly."

Blaine slides the diaper bag off his shoulder. "Well, I have to get going. You sure you don't need a sitter tomorrow morning? I would offer tonight, but it's date night with Kurt…I can tomorrow as long as it's before 2. I have a late class…"

Blaine was interning at a law firm uptown, while taking classes at NYU. He was mainly a paper pusher, but he always stated he had to start somewhere. Kurt was working at the theater that Rachel performed at, designing costumes for all the performers. Quinn was working at the library still, and was still taking night classes at NYU 3 times a week. She'd be finished in 6 months, and have her bachelors in journalism.

"No, it's fine. Quinn's gonna watch him till lunch, then bring him here when he wakes up."

Blaine nods. "Alright, well, I'm gone. Unless you need a babysitter this week, which I don't mind, I'll see you Thursday I suppose. You are coming to Quinn and Rachel's still? Rachel said they have some big news."

Santana shoots a glance toward the corner of the room, where she sees her little boy pushing trucks around. Dropping her eyes to the camera in her hand, she shrugs. "I-I'm not sure. I have a umm-meeting that night. But I'll probably be there after."

Voices from the doorway stop whatever Blaine was about to say, so he just nods. Leaning forward, her hugs her tightly, stepping back and turning to leave. "See ya later San."

She waves to him, already greeting the two parents and the little girl in there arms. Remembering the info she'd got, she smiles at the little girl. "Hi! I'm Santana, you must be the birthday girl."

The shoot is quick, and the little girl smiles at everything. She's definitely not camera shy. Making small talk with the mom and dad, she does the pictures they want, and throws in a group shot for free.

She's walking up the steps to her apartment later, sleeping baby in her arms, 3 bags saddling her shoulders. The place is nice, not the one her and Quinn shared. 8 months before, Quinn had moved in with Rachel. Instead of picking up the rent on the place, Santana had moved. She lived 2 blocks from her four friends, since Kurt and Blaine lived in the same building as Rachel. She saw one of them, usually all four of them, daily.

They've all been there for her. Especially Quinn.

If it wasn't for Quinn, she's probably be dead right now. Finding her in the shower 3 ½ years before, and confronting her, had saved her life. She'd made her get help. She'd been there. Through everything. The chills, the sickness, the craving, dealing with the actual reason she'd been crying. The shorter blonde she'd always had a iffy relationship with had been a rock.

Especially when she was late. A quick doctors visit told her what she'd already guessed. Quinn was there then, telling her she could do it. On the day her son was born, Andrew Pierson Lopez, or Andy, as most people called him, she had been clean 9 months. Since the day Quinn had found her, she'd stopped. It had been a wake up call. Finding out she was pregnant only added to her need and want to get better. What type of mother would she be if she did that?

She still went to meetings twice a month, and met with her sponsor Gabby, at least once a week. Without that woman, who was only a few years older than herself, she probably wouldn't be a photographer. She had been working at a small café, mainly just to make rent, when Gabby suggested she do it. It had been a hobby for little while, then grew.

Gabby Reid was a 25 year old interior designer, married to a guy named Cody that was a construction worker. The two had been together almost 2 years. Gabby had a daughter from a previous relationship, a 4 year old girl named Piper. She'd been clean almost 6 years, so that gave Santana hope. She could do it too. She'd talked her into taking pictures, even if it was just for fun.

She loved it. When she looked through the camera, she could see how happy most of the people she captured were. It was a way to express herself, and make money. Plus, she could pick her hours. Whenever she wanted to take off to spend a day with Andy, she could. Nobody told her what hours to work, or what jobs to take. She was her own boss.

Carrying Andy to his room, she flips back the toy story covers- yes, she got the name Andy from Toy Story- and lays him down. Luckily, he's in a pair of soft shorts and a t-shirt, so she doesn't bother with pajamas. Pulling the covers back up, she presses a kiss to his head before flicking on he night light beside his bed and leaving the room, the door left cracked behind her.

After a quick cup of coffee, she's standing in the darkroom, which is actually a closet that she's converted. It's big enough, and rarely does she actually bring her work home with her. That's what the studio's for. But the next day she's going to be there awhile, having 6 appointments lined up. Andy will be with Quinn until lunchtime, and her the rest of the day. He deserves to sleep in his own bed.

Continuing her process of developing the pictures, she doesn't realize how much times is going by. When she does check her phone, it's almost midnight. Groaning and stretching she leaves the room, checking on Andy before heading to the bathroom and stripping down. A twenty minute shower helps relax her, and after grabbing her laptop off the table, she's settled in front of the TV, volume almost to low to hear it, as she checks her email for any more requests for appointments. When she finally drifts off to sleep, the laptops on her lap, head resting on the back of the couch.


End file.
